


what did you aim for?

by freelancestargazing



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Injury, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25029946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freelancestargazing/pseuds/freelancestargazing
Summary: There’s a fierce pounding in his head, fighting his heartbeat for the place of loudest and fastest, and the ground sways dangerously underneath him. Or maybe he’s the one swaying, because that feels like concrete underneath his hands.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147





	what did you aim for?

There’s a fierce pounding in his head, fighting his heartbeat for the place of loudest and fastest, and the ground sways dangerously underneath him. Or maybe he’s the one swaying, because that feels like concrete underneath his hands.

“Holy shit, mate, I am so sorry, are you okay?” 

“Of course he’s not bloody okay, you wanker. Look, you broke his fucking nose!” 

“And his glasses.” 

People are yelling above him, around him, but he can’t see them. Everything is dark. Actually, it’s not all dark, but it is blurry, fuzzy and out of focus and marred by black spots and white flares like some shitty abstract art piece trying too hard to be unique. 

“Oh fuck, alright, I’ll drive him to hospital, here let me — ” 

Something pulls on his arm, surprisingly gentle, but there’s resistance on his other side, and the motion makes his head spin, offsetting the pounding headache and the rush of blood and making him whimper rather pathetically. Amazing how he can feel embarrassed about that when his brain is surely splattered across the street. 

“If you think I’m letting some random arsehole take off with my best mate than you’re stupider than you look.” This is a voice he knows, familiar and comforting, even if he can’t place the face. Or the name. He can’t place much of anything, actually… 

“Fuck off, I’m just trying to help.” Grouchy, but panicky, also familiar, intimately so, in an entirely different way to the first one. 

“Come on, Will, let the guy help. It’s the least he can do.” A feminine lilt, another voice he knows, friendly and exasperated and a little worried too. Not quite worried enough for splattered brains, though, so maybe he’s wrong about that. 

“Fine, but you’re taking us too.” 

“Sure, whatever, but we really should get going, there’s a lot of blood there.” 

“No shit there’s a lot of blood.” A hand slides under his head, fingers curling slightly in his hair, and there’s tapping at his cheek. “Hey, come on Merls, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes, mate. Show us those pretty blues.” 

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, although he can’t remember closing them, because then he’ll see that shitty art again and it makes his stomach roll. But the voice, his friend, _Will_ , Will doesn’t get worried and he definitely doesn’t stroke people’s hair, and the fact that he’s doing both is concerning enough to make Merlin open his eyes. 

Everything’s still fuzzy— _broke his glasses, right, no wonder_ —but he can make out shaggy-haired Will scowling down at him, and a girl, the girl, _Freya_ peering over Will’s shoulder, eyes wide and a bit teary. They both smile when they see him looking, though, so the dizziness he gets is worth it. 

Something’s still holding his hand, though, so he rolls his head a bit, wincing when his bruised left cheek brushes the shoulder of his jumper, and sees gold. The other guy, the grouchy one, is standing directly in the way of the sun, and isn’t that just the stupidest cliche, Merlin thinks, since the guy’s sweaty blonde hair is glowing in the light and haloing his head in gold. He looks familiar, but Merlin can’t place where, and the guy is saying “we need to go, he could be concussed,” and Will is arguing but lifting him to his feet and the golden boy is on Merlin’s other side and Freya walks slightly ahead, Merlin’s backpack in one hand and mangled frames in the other, and they’re moving so everything sways again, and Merlin shuts his eyes even though it makes Freya panic, and he thinks he’d very much like to take a nap now. 

It’s difficult to sleep when you’re being forcefully held upright and made to walk what feels forever, but then Merlin is being laid down, his head pillowed in someone’s lap, and it’s much easier to drift off, even with his friends’ yelling. 

+++

His head is much clearer when he next comes around, lying on a hospital bed, with people all around him, staring at him. The first he sees is Will, who grins and calls him an idiot. Then Freya, who smacks Will upside the head and tells Merlin she’s glad he’s awake. Then there’s a nurse and a doctor, fussing over him and telling him about his mild concussion. And when they finally move, he sees Arthur Pendragon standing at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh fuck,” Merlin says, and Arthur, the prat, grins. Will and Freya don’t see this, since Arthur’s standing behind them, and probably assume Merlin’s curse was for the pain in his head. It’s only partially true, but he can’t really tell them about the other bit. 

“Heya, Merls, welcome back to the land of the living,” Will says, and Merlin wants to be annoyed except he can vaguely remember the panic in Will’s voice back on campus, so he settles for flipping Will off, which just makes the arse laugh. 

Freya smacks Merlin this time, but only lightly on the arm, and says “Oh my God, Merlin, we were so worried about you. How are you feeling now? Still fuzzy?” 

Merlin can’t help but look over at Arthur, who is still smirking slightly, but also watching Merlin with that practised carelessness that means he’s really worried and doesn’t know what to do about it. “Not really,” Merlin says, forcing himself to look back at his friends, “but I’m not entirely sure what happened.” 

Freya bites her lip, Will scowls fiercely, Arthur flinches, and Merlin is still completely confused. “Anyone wanna tell me?” He tries again when no one speaks up. 

It’s no surprise when Will snaps first, pointing at Arthur accusingly. “This arsehole doesn’t know how to kick a bloody football straight, that’s what happened. His shot went wide, smacked you right in the head, broke your glasses and almost broke your bloody nose. Literally bloody, you were gushing, and you got a black eye like you’ve been in one hell of a fight.” 

Merlin looks at Arthur again, sees Arthur look away with that sharp set to his shoulders that says any attempts at comfort will be met with anger and derision, and sighs internally. Outwardly, he says “The doctor said I’m fine, though. Mildly concussed, alright, whatever, but fine. No damage or breakage or anything.” Will is still scowling, and Merlin just scowls right back. “Come on, Will, I’ve given myself worse walking down the stairs.” 

Arthur snorts at that, clearly unwillingly, and Merlin has to fight back a grin. He knows they’re thinking of the same thing, just a couple months ago, an incident that also put Merlin in hospital and made him unable to look Morgana in the face for weeks. 

But Will doesn’t take too kindly to Arthur’s laugh, and turns his scowl to the man in question. “What are you laughing at, prick, this is your fault.” He stands, making Arthur back away, but Freya grabs Will’s arm before he tries to start a fight in the middle of the hospital room. 

“Come on, Will, it’s not like he meant to hit Merlin,” Freya says, tugging Will back to his seat. “And really, since he’s paying for all of this, we can’t be too mad at him.” 

“You’re paying?” Merlin asks. 

Arthur frowns. “Of course I’m paying _Mer_ lin. I’ll buy you new glasses as well, since God knows you need them.” 

That was true enough, since Merlin couldn’t see shit right now, but for Arthur to offer to pay for the hospital bill? It’s not like he can’t afford it, Merlin knows that Arthur can, except for him to do that he’d have to use his savings, the money from his father, and he _hates_ using that money. He always says he doesn’t want anything to do with Uther’s riches, wants to earn his money himself the right way. Merlin feels himself warm at that, and Arthur must see it, because his cheeks bloom pink as he looks away. 

“Wait,” Will says, looking between them with suspicion, “do you two know each other?” 

Arthur looks back at Merlin with wide eyes, and Merlin stutters out, “Uh, yeah, kind of, my manager is his older sister, so we’ve met, sort of, that is.” Christ, how he hates his rambling. 

Freya and Will look at each other, doing that couple thing where they manage a whole conversation in one glance, before they shrug and say “Alright.” Actually, Will says, “Alright Merls, don’t get your knickers twisted,” but Merlin’s too relieved at their easy acceptance to be annoyed. 

They hang around long enough to make sure he’s really okay, and to extract a promise from Arthur that he’ll drive Merlin straight home once he can check out, but then they have to run to make their afternoon classes at the university, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone in the private room, which Merlin realises Arthur would have to pay extra for. 

He knows that his friends would be okay with it — they already know he’s gay, after all, and the three of them are pretty close knit (Merlin has been friends with Will since primary, and they met Freya in high school, where she and Merlin dated until Merlin came out, prompting Will and Freya to get together, and so they’ve been since). But Arthur isn’t ready for that, has only just moved beyond Uther and his toxic opinions, so they’re keeping it secret and low-key. They’ve been doing well, too, (except for Morgana, who is scarily good at getting to the truth (and there was the stair incident, which was a bit difficult to lie about)) and Merlin wants to give Arthur all the time he needs to be as comfortable as possible. After everything, he deserves it. 

Arthur closes the door behind Freya and Will, checking the hall as he does, and then walks over to the bed and lays himself down half on top of Merlin, completely without warning. Not that Merlin’s complaining, obviously. He winds his arms over and around Arthur’s waist, feeling warm breath puff against his right ear, the side of his face that isn't bruised. Merlin presses his nose to Arthur’s hair, still salty with sweat from playing football with his mates. He can’t completely remember the incident, but he does remember walking past the field, Freya and Will arm in arm on his right, not noticing him looking for Arthur on the field. He remembers Will getting his attention with a question about… something, then it goes a bit fuzzy, and he guesses that must be when he was hit. 

“I was so worried,” Arthur mumbles into Merlin’s shoulder, and it makes that warm feeling flit through Merlin’s chest again, knowing they’re thinking about the same thing. Merlin tightens his hold on his boyfriend, a reassuring squeeze, and Arthur returns the squeeze almost frantically. Then he’s pushing himself up so he hovers over Merlin, dragging a single finger down the bruising on Merlin’s face, so light he almost isn’t touching at all. “I didn’t realise it was you until I was standing over you, and there was so much blood… I was so worried.” 

Being this close to each other, it doesn’t matter that Merlin’s glasses are broken. Arthur’s face is as clear as it needs to be for Merlin to track the crease in his forehead and the downturn of his lips, the slight pout mismatched with the tone of his voice and the slight shake of his fingers. It’s unlike Arthur to be so open with his emotions, displaying them on his face like this, but Merlin figures that the scene must’ve looked so much worse than it actually was if Arthur is this shaken. 

Merlin wraps his hand around Arthur’s wrist, tugging gently until he can press a chaste kiss to the back of Arthur’s hand. Another pink blush floods Arthur’s cheeks, and Merlin finds himself grinning. “I’m okay, Arthur, really,” he says, drawing Arthur’s hand down to rest against his heart. It’s a cheesy gesture, and really, if one football to the head was going to kill him, Merlin would be long dead, but something in Arthur’s shoulders relax at the steady beat of Merlin’s heart. 

He leans back down, gingerly presses his lips to Merlin’s, then resettles with his nose pressed to the crook of Merlin’s neck. Someday, this will probably be another incident that they laugh at, and shortly the doctor or nurse will be back and they’ll have to separate, but for now Merlin just holds his boyfriend with tight and reassuring arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> a) Sorry if this seems inaccurate, I am not a doctor, nor have I ever had a concussion, but I've heard that there can be a lot of blood, so... maybe? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! (Let me know what you think? Or don't, no pressure.)


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